


You Might Have Noticed

by zams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossdressing, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:18:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zams/pseuds/zams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>To the world, Harry and Draco are barely friends, but behind closed doors, they’re in a complicated relationship that’s plagued by insecurity and miscommunication. Being assigned as partners for a case pushes their already strained relationship to its breaking point and makes everything even more complicated and confusing.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Might Have Noticed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 [HP_Getlucky](http://hp-getlucky.livejournal.com/) St. Patrick's Day fest on LiveJournal for [this prompt](http://hp-getlucky.livejournal.com/16082.html?thread=116178#t116178).
> 
> Many thanks to my betas **Taylor** and **Alissa** , and to **lizibabes** for support, encouragement, and Brit-picking. Title from The Academy Is… song of the same name.

**

“Wait, what?” Harry asks, certain he’s misunderstood. He glances over to Draco, who’s sitting next to him, and he’s staring straight ahead, seemingly perfectly at ease with what Robards just said. They’ve been friends for nearly five years, and Harry’s still in awe of Draco’s ability to be calm and collected in every situation.

Robards sighs and puts his hands on his desk, lacing his fingers, leaning forward. “You heard me, Potter,” he says. “You’ll be partnering with Malfoy and helping him finish this case.”

See, that’s what Harry thought Robards said, and it doesn’t make any more sense the second time around. “But… Malfoy has a partner.”

Admittedly, that is a rather inane statement from even Harry, but he doesn’t think it warrants the glare Robards gives him or the muttering of Draco. Harry can’t make out what he’s saying, but knowing Draco, it can’t be very flattering, even if they are dating now.

“I am quite aware of that, Potter,” Robards says flatly, raising an eyebrow. “But I’m sure you’re aware that Weasley will be on holiday next week, yes?”

Dammit! Harry forgot about that. Ron’s been planning a holiday with Hermione for months now. After all the effort Ron went into to getting Hermione to take a week off work to go, Ron’s not going to cancel it for anything less than a disaster. “Yes,” Harry answers. “But surely there’s someone else…”

Robards glares at him again. “Are you and Grant working a case now?” he asks.

It’s a pointed question, and Harry sighs. “No.”

He and Grant aren’t; they finished their last case a few days ago, and they’re still working on completing the paperwork, and suddenly, a knot forms in Harry’s stomach. Grant was telling Harry just yesterday that he was going to ask Robards for some last-minute time off because his brother’s wife’s labor was going to be induced because of (relatively minor, thankfully) complications. 

“And,” Robards continues, “with Weasley gone and Malfoy needing a partner, I gave Grant the whole week off even though he only asked for a couple days.” He smiles. “Now, if you’re finished questioning me, Potter?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry mumbles. 

He quickly glances over at Draco and he nearly winces at what he sees. Draco’s back is rigid, his lips pressed into a thin line, and he’s still staring straight ahead. Harry really put his foot in his mouth this time; he’ll be lucky if Draco’s civil to him at all next week, and that makes Harry feel terrible. He’ll have to apologize; Harry can’t stand the thought of hurting Draco with his careless words.

“Then get back to work,” Robards orders. “Malfoy will brief you on the background of his case tomorrow and you better be ready, Potter. The raid is this weekend I don’t want anything to screw this up.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry says again, standing up. 

Draco stands up too, and by the time Harry blinks, Draco’s nodded at Robards and said, “Sir,” and is out the door without a word to Harry.

Harry rushes after him, reaching out. “Draco! Draco, wait! Please!”

The please seems to do it, Draco stopping just before he reaches the end of the hall. He waits for Harry to reach him, his face set in a stony expression. It’s been a long time since Draco’s looked at him like that and Harry really doesn’t like it.

“Draco, I’m sorry-,”

“Yes, _Potter_ , I’m sure you’re ‘sorry,’” Draco bites out, interrupting him. “Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better.”

Harry feels wretched. This is the last thing he intended. Draco doesn’t understand; the only reason Harry doesn’t want to work with Draco is so that Draco doesn’t get hurt. He’s overprotective; it’s why he couldn’t stay Ron’s partner – he was so worried about protecting Ron that he ultimately was careless with his own _and_ Ron’s safety. He doesn’t want to mess up Draco’s case because he can’t focus. 

He has to explain. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. He grabs Draco’s hand and is heartened when Draco doesn’t immediately pull away. Gently tugging Draco along with him, Harry takes them to an empty meeting room, closing the door behind them. Once they’re inside though, Draco snatches his hand away and puts distance between them.

“I didn’t mean it like however you’re thinking,” Harry says. “You know that.”

“Do I?” Draco asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “I hardly know anything. After all, you haven’t told anyone that we’re together. In fact, you make it a point to act like we’re barely friends when we’re in public. Most of the time, I forget I’m supposed to be in a relationship with you, except, of course, when we’re locked away in your flat and _then_ you’re affectionate and sweet.”

Harry stares at Draco, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “I- I,” he stammers not knowing what to say. What can he say to Draco’s accusations? They’re true. But it’s not like Draco’s thinking! Harry’s not ashamed or embarrassed to be with him. He’s just so awkward with the whole dating thing, showing affection in public. He never knows what the right thing to do or say is, how to act. Harry’s always in the spotlight and it gets tiring. 

And Draco’s just so far beyond him in class, Harry feels like a bumbling idiot next to him. Harry doesn’t want to embarrass _Draco_ when they’re in public. When they’re alone and secluded, it’s easier. Harry doesn’t feel like every move’s scrutinized, like he’s being judged. In private, Harry feels free to touch Draco, kiss him and hold him without worry. 

He tries again. “Draco, let me explain…” he says, but then he trails off, the prospect of explaining, confessing all his insecurities to Draco makes Harry uneasy, especially right now when they’re at work and Draco’s upset. But if he doesn’t, he’ll lose Draco, and that’s not something Harry’s prepared to face. 

“What’s there to explain?” Draco sighs, looking suddenly weary. “Maybe we should rethink this relationship,” he says, and something close to panic abruptly grips Harry. “It’s obvious you’re not comfortable with me.”

“No, Draco, no,” Harry manages to get out. “That’s not it. That’s not how I feel.”

“I don’t think you know what you want,” Draco says. “We’ve been friends for years now, and I hoped that we could be more, but it’s been three months, and it’s clear that it’s not working. This isn’t a relationship if we can’t be open about it. I gave you time, but it’s increasingly evident that you’ll never be comfortable no matter how much time I give. In some ways, I felt closer to you when we were just friends.”

Harry’s sick with the realization that he’s been fucking up his relationship with Draco, a relationship that’s become so important to him over the past months. He was so worried about taking it slow, being so careful to _not_ fuck it up that he ended up doing it anyway. He thought what they had was enough at least for the time being, but it clearly wasn’t want Draco wanted and needed, and now he thinks Harry doesn’t care about him at all. 

“Draco, you don’t understand,” Harry pleads. He reaches out toward Draco, but Draco leans away from his touch. 

“I can’t do this now,” he says. “Maybe when this case is over, we can talk, but I don’t really know what is left to say. We’re different; we want different things.”

Harry aches with urge to tell Draco the truth now because he couldn’t be more wrong, but Draco’s stubborn. He won’t listen right now and Harry will have to wait, but he latches onto that opening. “Yes, we will. I don’t want it to end, Draco, not like this.”

Draco seems unmoved by Harry’s emotionality, but Harry knows Draco well enough after being friends for so long to interpret his perceived detachedness as a defense mechanism, a way to protect himself from hurt. Harry never thought that he’d give Draco reason to put up his armor.

“Be at my flat tomorrow night at nine; we’re going out for a test run,” is all Draco says before he turns around and walks out of the room.

Harry watches him go, the tight feeling deep in his stomach slowly being replaced by determination. Harry’s not going to let Draco go, not when everything’s so messed up. Harry doesn’t think either of them has been completely honest with the other, not about what they want or how they feel. Things are going to change; they have to.

**

Harry’s distracted the rest of the day, his thoughts never far from Draco. Before, Draco would sneak Harry a glance or two throughout the day, smiling at him and looking at him in a tender way that never failed to put Harry in a good mood. 

But today, Draco doesn’t give him anything. He doesn’t even join Harry at the coffee pot and subtly brush their fingers together and ask Harry to come over that evening or compliment him. 

Harry feels bereft and depressed.

By the time he goes home for the day, Harry’s worked himself into quite the sour mood, mostly irritated at himself for failing so spectacularly. It’s Thursday, which means he’s supposed to join Ron for drinks, and though he really doesn’t feel up to it, he goes because dealing with Ron’s questions of why he’s canceling would be worse. 

But an hour later, he and Ron seated a corner booth, the pub packed and noisy, Harry thinks he should have just cancelled because he’s hardly said ten words and is brooding and glaring at his ale rather than drinking it. The headache isn’t helping matters.

“So, are you going to tell me what crawled up your arse and died?” Ron eventually says, breaking the silence, and Harry looks up at him. 

“Seriously, mate,” Ron says, pushing his beer to the side and leaning over the table. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Like I believe that,” Ron says. “Now c’mon. What happened?”

Ron’s persistent when he wants to be, and Harry could try to deflect his questions and he might get away with it if he really tried, but Harry doesn’t have the energy for it. So he settles for a half-truth. “Draco and I fought.”

Ron raises an eyebrow. “So?” he says. “You always fight.”

“Not like that,” Harry says. In Harry’s opinion, they don’t fight so much as disagree over semantics or other equally ridiculous things really just to irritate each other – both of them wanting the last word –, and since they’ve been together, not that anyone knows, as Draco reminded him earlier, that’s happened less frequently. “I… kinda made a big deal about partnering with him next week.”

Ron whistles and leans back into the booth. “Seriously, Harry? What is it with you two? If I could get over Draco being a Malfoy and actually admit I like the bloke, surely you can stop fighting with him every day. It’s been five years; it’s time to let go.”

Harry looks back down at his ale and scowls, feeling worse. Fuck, Harry has to fix this. He has to. If _Ron’s_ telling him that he needs to ‘make nice’ with Draco, Harry must really have made a mess of things.

“But then again…” Ron says after a moment, sounding intrigued, “it’s probably sexual tension from school that’s built up from working together. You two should fuck and get it over with. It would probably improve both your dispositions.”

Harry’s sure that if he had been drinking at the moment Ron said that, he would have spat it out all over the table and Ron. His head snaps up, his eyes wide, and he gapes. “What?”

Ron shrugs. “Why not? Clearly, all the fighting and animosity is a cover for unresolved sexual tension.”

Harry has to laugh at those words coming from Ron of all people, despite his bad mood. “Now I _know_ that’s Hermione talking.”

Ron laughs too, and he winks. “You’re right. Word for word even. But yeah, I think that’s it.” He pauses, considering Harry. “Seriously. Just fuck Draco. Or have him fuck you. Whatever.” He waves a hand carelessly, and Harry can’t believe he and Ron are having this conversation; it’s surreal.

Harry’s not sure he’s not passed out and dreaming, but assuming Ron _did_ just tell him to fuck Draco, Harry really wants to bang his head on the table and groan. If Ron’s the one encouraging Harry to date Draco… well, there’s no use for Harry to be concerned with keeping his and Draco’s relationship quiet. Not that Harry was too concerned with telling Ron and everyone else that he’s dating a man - they all know he’s bisexual, after all - but since Draco’s the first man he’s dated, he did have that slight anxiety when faced with the prospect of making his bisexuality more than theoretical for his friends.

But now he’s not even sure he has a boyfriend, so the whole thing could be moot. Harry groans again thinking about the mess of their relationship.

Ron pats his head. “Buck up, mate. It won’t be so bad. You’ll see.”

Harry doesn’t share Ron’s confidence. Ron doesn’t know half of it. “I need another drink,” he mutters. He does if he’s going to deal with all the thoughts swirling in his head and the tight feeling in his stomach from being unable to get Draco’s hurt face out of his mind.

Oblivious, Ron just laughs and pats his head again. 

**

By the time nine comes around the next evening and Harry’s walking to Draco’s flat, Harry’s just started to wrap his head around the fact that Draco has to cross dress for the case.

Harry had no idea that was the case Ron and Draco were working on until Draco told him at work earlier today. When Draco was telling him about it and explaining what was going to happen, he was calm and completely unperturbed about the whole thing, like dressing up like a woman was a normal occurrence for him.

Harry was bursting with the need to ask Draco about it, but he kept his mouth shut though, not wanting to anger Draco, and he just listened and nodded and interjected a comment when appropriate. Apparently, as Harry learned, some wizard is going around Muggle London and visiting various gay bars and clubs, looking for gay couples with one man who is cross-dressed. He then propositions them and later, once back in the couples’ flat or house, he would kill them, not bothering to hide any magical evidence.

Draco told him that neither he nor Ron are sure why the wizard is doing this, but Draco thinks it’s because the wizard is a closeted gay man who wants to cross-dress himself and is unable or unwilling to come out. 

That seems plausible to Harry, and he knows he should be focused on the case – he and Draco are going out tonight on a test-run to scope out the bar in the area where the couples have been picked up and see how Draco’s received by the patrons – but Harry can’t stop thinking about Draco. What will Draco look like as a woman? Will he wear make-up? A dress? Heels? Will he grow out his hair?

Just the array of possibilities is enough to have Harry’s denims getting tight. Draco is gorgeous now and Harry can’t imagine that Draco will be anything but gorgeous as a woman, dressing that way only enhancing Draco’s natural beauty, and Harry will want him.

And that just leads Harry back to the main issue with his relationship with Draco: his inexperience with men. Draco came out as gay right after the War, and he never made a secret about his subsequent dating. Harry knows of at least seven men Draco’s dated in the past five years (and Harry doesn’t want to think too hard about why he knows that), and that’s quite intimidating to Harry. How can he hope to compare to the aristocratic, suave, and no doubt sexually experienced men Draco’s used to dating? 

Harry’d probably bollocks it all up, trying to seduce Draco and make love to him, which is why they’ve still not come close to actually having sex, despite Harry wanting to very much. Instead, Harry holds and kisses him, gives him compliments and little gifts, hoping that Draco will fall for him like Harry’s fallen for him, and that once that happens, Draco won’t leave him when he finds out that Harry’s essentially a virgin with men. Harry knows the mechanics, obviously, and he’s practiced a bit on himself, but anyone will tell you that knowing and doing are two very different things.

Harry sighs, reaching Draco’s building. Too soon, he’s knocking on Draco’s door, and Draco’s opening it, dressed more casually than he was at work. 

“Harry,” he says, stepping aside to let Harry in. 

Closing the door behind them, Draco says, “I have everything ready. We can leave soon and get this over with. You know where the kitchen is if you want something to drink.”

Harry’s unable to get a word in edgewise before Draco disappears down the short hall and presumably into his bedroom. Draco’s words, so aloof and cold, make Harry’s heart ache. He sits down on the couch, Draco’s so much more comfortable than his own, and rests his head on the back, wondering what he can say to Draco to fix the mess he’s made.

Only a few minutes pass before Draco says, “Harry.”

Having had his eyes closed, Harry jumps from hearing Draco’s voice so close. Raising his head and opening his eyes, he sees Draco right in front of him. He blinks a few times, and when his brain finally registers the vision he’s seeing, he sucks in a sharp breath. 

Harry looks Draco up and down, his eyes greedily taking in every detail. Harry’s never seen any person, man or woman, as gorgeous as Draco looks now. Draco did grow out his hair, it now down just past his shoulders, freely hanging and looking so soft, and his eyes seeming brighter, greyer than normal because of the thick black eye shadow around them, and fuck, his lips - blood red and calling to Harry to kiss them. And Draco’s dress… Jesus, it’s tight and short and shows off a figure Harry didn’t even know Draco had. He’s not wearing fake breasts, but somehow the lack makes him even more striking. The black color goes perfectly with Draco’s hair and lips, and Harry nearly whimpers when he sees Draco’s legs, long and bare and _smooth_. 

Jesus Christ. Harry can hardly breathe. He’s already hard, wanting nothing more than to pull Draco to him and devour his lips, reach down and hook one leg around his waist so Harry can touch the soft, hairless skin and slide his hands up Draco’s thighs and under his dress to Draco’s cock, and let Draco feel how much he’s affecting Harry since Harry’s been remiss in showing that to Draco. 

Draco thinks Harry doesn’t want him? Nothing could be further from the truth. 

“What do you think?” Draco suddenly asks. “Do you think the wizard will try to pick us up?”

_With you looking like that? He’ll probably pass out. Like I’m about to._

“Harry?”

Draco sounds confused and a touch impatient, but Harry can’t speak. He’s trying but nothing’s coming out. Finally, he manages to say, “Draco… Fuck, _Draco_ …”

He stands up on weak legs and he steps closer to Draco, vaguely realizing that Draco’s looking slightly flustered, but Harry supposes that being looked at like Harry’s looking at him, intense and fixated and heated, considering the state of their relationship, would do that. 

“Harry, what are you doing?” 

“I want you,” is all Harry says. “God, I want you. You have no idea.”

That draws Draco up short. “You do? Like this?”

Harry groans and reaches out toward him. “ _Yes_. So much. Please, Draco.”

Harry doesn’t care that he’s begging. Seeing Draco dressed like this snapped something inside him. He’s still nervous about having sex with Draco, but now the prospect doesn’t seem as nerve-wracking as it did before – what’s more upsetting is _not_ having Draco. All he knows is that he wants Draco. Suddenly, his inexperience doesn’t matter as much as it did and his desire fills him with confidence. He can figure it out. They can figure it out together.

Draco just stares at him like he can’t quite figure Harry’s intentions, hesitant and maybe even hurt of all things, and just when Harry’s about to beg again so Harry can make him happy and make him feel good like Harry’s wanted to do for months and take that hurt away, Draco says, “I want you too, Harry.”

The quiet words snap the last of Harry’s control. “Thank god,” he says, immediately pulling Draco into his arms and burying his face in Draco’s neck, breathing him in and just reveling in the feel of Draco’s hard body against his own. It’s both wonderfully familiar and deliciously foreign. “Mmm, you smell so good, Draco. Feel so good,” Harry says, running his hands all over Draco’s body, over skin and cloth, wherever he can reach.

Draco’s arms come around his shoulders and he holds on _tight_ , almost enough to hurt. “Harry,” he says. “Harry.”

“Yes, love,” Harry answers as he kisses up Draco’s neck to his jawline. “Yes. I want to make you feel good, so good. And I’ll try, Draco, I promise I’ll try.”

Reaching down, Harry hooks his forearms under Draco’s thighs, stroking for a few moments and then pulling up. Draco understands what he wants, and he lets Harry pick him up, locking his legs around Harry’s waist. Harry holds him close, one hand securely around Draco’s back and the other on his arse, and then they’re finally kissing, frantic and desperate and sloppy, unlike any kiss they’ve shared, but just as good. 

Right now, it’s better than Harry can remember anything else being, and he wants more, more, more. Everything seems far away: the case, their last conversation, Harry’s worries; Harry’s only aware of Draco, the feel and taste of him and the desire to give him pleasure.

Harry groans in disappointment when Draco rips his lips away, but he whispers, “Fuck me,” across Harry’s lips, and then Harry’s groaning for an entirely different reason, feeling as if his legs are going to give away. 

“ _Yes_ ,” he answers, taking Draco’s mouth again, kissing him so deeply that Harry’s hopes that it touches Draco’s heart, and he walks them down the hall to Draco’s bedroom.

They won’t be leaving tonight. He thinks his reaction is enough to be sure of the effectiveness of Draco’s cross-dressing. They don’t need to go anywhere except to bed.

**

When Harry wakes up, unsure of what woke him, it’s dark and Draco’s curled up next to him. 

Looking down at Draco, his lips slightly parted and his hair fanned out on the pillows, Harry’s heart swells. He reaches out to tenderly sweep the hair off Draco’s forehead and he smiles at the face Draco makes in his sleep at feeling Harry’s fingers. 

If Harry wasn’t sure about his feelings before, he definitely is now. There’s no denying that Harry’s in love. He thought he was, but after being with Draco intimately, Harry can’t imagine being parted from him; Draco’s become so important to him. And from Draco’s reactions when they made love… Harry quite thinks that Draco loves him too. 

He’s still tired from before, but for a few moments, Harry’s content to lie next to Draco and feel and hear him breathe and remember.

If perfection exists, Harry thinks he experienced it last night. The way Draco clung to him, kissed him, called out his name, pleaded for more, his arms and legs wrapped tightly around Harry’s body as Harry moved inside him, Draco’s dress bunched around his waist and lipstick smeared, it was almost more than Harry could bear. All his worries and insecurities faded away as Draco gave him vocal and physical proof of his pleasure. It seemed natural, easy, right to be with Draco like that, and it just left Harry more determined than ever to make Draco explode. 

And he did. Draco panted and clutched at Harry’s back and finally came with Harry deep in his body, and Harry held him through it, whispering encouragements and words of affection. Harry didn’t last long after that, and when he came, emptying himself in Draco, Draco was kissing him, stealing what little breath Harry had left. 

It was more than Harry could have dreamed possible. And he wants to do it again. Soon.

The prospect puts a smile on his face, and Harry resettles in bed, closing his eyes, hoping to dream. 

**

When Harry wakes up the next time, it’s light and Draco’s gone.

Harry frowns, dropping his arm onto Draco’s side of the bed, and his frown gets deeper when he finds the sheets cold. He sits up, the sheet gathering around his waist, and wonders where Draco is. He was looking forward to waking up cuddled with Draco. 

But it’s after eleven Harry finds out from the clock on the bedside table. Harry’s always been a late riser, and though he’s not spent the night with Draco before, Harry knows him well enough to not be surprised that Draco’s one who gets up with the sun. 

He finds his denims by the closet, and he puts them on before he goes in search of Draco, forgoing a shirt. Draco’s in the living room, sitting on the couch, looking showered and dressed. There’s a teacup in one hand and a book in the other. The plate on the table in front of the couch has the remnants of breakfast on it, toast and eggs, Harry thinks.

Draco’s not noticed him yet, and Harry smiles tenderly at him, at seeing this glimpse into Draco’s personal, intimate life that Harry hasn’t gotten to see before now. He wants this to be the first time of many. “Draco.”

Draco starts and looks up. Harry’s taken aback by the brief flash of startled anxiety that comes across Draco’s face before Draco hides it. “Harry. Morning.”

Harry dismisses the initial reaction. “Good morning,” he says warmly, moving to sit down next to Draco. Before he can, Draco hastily gets up and Harry’s smile drops away. “Draco? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Draco says shortly. “I was just about to wake you up myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Draco says. “I’m meeting Blaise for coffee in just a bit.”

Harry falters, suddenly feeling uneasy, good mood disappearing. “Blaise?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?” Draco asks, raising an eyebrow.

_Yes_. “No, no problem.” Harry swallows roughly. This isn’t the morning-after Harry was expecting. He was expecting Draco to greet him with a happy smile when he came in, maybe get up and kiss him, and Harry would have held him close and returned this kiss. That would have been nice. “It’s fine.”

“Good. Now if you could get dressed…?” Draco trails off, and Harry feels like Draco’s just ripped his heart in two. Last night they kissed and touched, made love, shared something special, and now Draco’s throwing Harry out of his flat as if Harry just kipped at the end of his bed for the night. What’s going on? Draco’s behavior doesn’t make sense.

Harry felt so close to Draco last night and now it’s like Draco wants nothing to do with him, and would rather go see Blaise, his ex-boyfriend who is so far ahead of Harry in class and style it’s not even funny, when they should be in bed together enjoying their newfound closeness.

What happened? Harry opens his mouth, wanting to say _why are you doing this? What did I do?_ , something, anything, but the words don’t come, not with Draco looking at him like Harry has about five seconds to vacate before Draco pushes him bodily out the door, looking uncaring and cold.

“Sure,” Harry forces out, and, confused and hurt, Harry quickly grabs his clothes from Draco’s bedroom and Apparates home, unable to remain in Draco’s flat for another moment.

**

Harry spends the day at his flat, wandering around aimlessly and thinking about Draco. Neville stops by around six, reminding Harry that they had dinner plans. Neville takes one look at him and offers to listen if Harry needs to talk. They order in instead, and halfway through dinner, Harry ends up confessing everything to Neville, dating Draco, the secrecy, their almost-break up two days ago, and, Harry blushing, even a censored version of what happened between them the previous night.

It feels good to tell someone, to talk about his feelings with someone who really isn’t involved. Neville and Draco are friendly enough, but not too close. Ron, though, is too close to the both of them for Harry to feel comfortable telling him, even if he were around. 

“Talk to him, Harry,” Neville says. “Tell him how you feel and ask him how he feels. You’re clearly not on the same page.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “You’re right. I need to,” he says, even though the prospect of talking to Draco is painful when the memory of Draco’s dismissiveness is still so sharp.

Neville smiles and pats Harry’s knee encouragingly. “You do.”

Neville leaves soon after that, and by that time, Harry needs to get dressed for the raid and wall off all his personal feelings; he has a job to do. He bought new denims and a button-up that will go well with Draco’s dress, and once dressed, he puts a minor glamour on himself. At nine o’clock, Harry’s knocking on Draco’s door just as he was last night.

Draco’s dressed when he opens the door and they leave immediately, Draco only saying, “Ready?” before he grabs Harry’s arm and they disappear. 

The raid goes off without a hitch just as Draco assured him it would. It’s almost anti-climatic.

The bar isn’t too crowded when they arrive as it’s only nine, and they grab a spot to wait, somewhere near the entrance but central enough to be easily seen. Draco sits, poised and exuding confidence, and sips a drink, while Harry stands, hovering possessively. Draco commands a lot of appreciating attention from the other patrons, but none approach yet. A couple hours pass quietly, and then, finally, someone does approach them. Harry’s cautious just as Draco is, both of them feeling him out as the man talks. It only takes a few minutes before the man asks them if they’d be game for a little ‘fun’ together, and Harry’s increasingly sure that this is the man they’re looking for. 

“Baby,” Harry says, bending down to speak in Draco’s ear, playing the part of doting and indulging partner as they decided, “what do you think?”

Draco looks the man up and down slowly. “…Yes,” he sniffs. “I suppose he’ll do.”

The man’s face lights up despite Draco’s veiled insult, and Harry forces himself not to pull out his wand right there and hex the man. Despite the confusing state of his and Draco’s personal relationship, Harry’s somehow able to focus on the case and be the professional he is – maybe it’s because of how close to home the case is; Harry wants to get this man in custody as soon as possible. “Anything for you, baby,” Harry says, taking Draco’s hand and helping Draco to stand. 

They take the man to a Ministry-rented flat. The man’s almost completely fixated on Draco, unable to take his eyes off him. Harry can certainly understand, but Harry wants to irrationally hide Draco away from the man’s unworthy gaze. 

Draco lies down on the bed, looking like sin personified in his make-up and dress, teasingly touching himself, and the man’s practically drooling, ignoring Harry. Harry watches him like a hawk. There weren’t signs of sexual activity with any of the other couples, so the fact that the man is pulling off his clothes means that they either have the wrong man and this potentially will turn very awkward very soon, or Draco’s affecting the man more than the other men did. 

Harry’s assuming the latter, and he’s proven right when the man pulls off his shirt and Harry sees his wand in the back of his jeans. Since the man’s been targeting Muggles, it’s clearly made him over-confident and careless.

Harry doesn’t hesitate. He pulls out his own wand and stupefies him, and three minutes in the flat, it’s over.

**

An hour later, the man’s in custody at the Ministry, Draco’s changed clothes, and Robards is congratulating them and telling them to go home, saying they’ll discuss further on Monday. 

“Draco, we need to talk,” Harry says when Robards leaves them. “Tonight.”

“Harry…”

Harry stares at him, determined to not give an inch. Putting this off will only make things worse.

When Draco realizes that Harry’s not going to give in, he sighs. “Fine. But we don’t have anything to discuss.”

“Like hell we don’t!” Harry snaps, frustrated. He looks around and sees that no one’s paying them attention. “We had sex last night, Draco,” he says, and he doesn’t miss Draco’s flinch, but Harry presses on. “We can’t pretend like it didn’t happen. _I_ can’t pretend.”

“Fine,” Draco says again, but Harry notes that his voice isn’t as steady or cold as it was just moments ago.

Harry follows after Draco through the floo, coming out into Draco’s living room. He’s not going to waste any time in getting answers. “What happened this morning?” he asks. “Why did you throw me out after what we did?”

Draco crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “I didn’t throw you out.”

“You did and you know it,” Harry says. “Do you know how much it hurt me to be tossed aside like that, like I didn’t matter?”

A look of pain quickly passes over Draco’s face. He doesn’t say anything.

“Draco,” Harry says plaintively. He walks closer to him. “Talk to me. What happened? I know we were having problems, but last night… I thought it meant something.”

“…It did,” Draco whispers at length. “But it doesn’t change anything.”

Harry throws his hands up. “That doesn’t make sense,” he says. “Last night was one of the best experiences of my life. I don’t want it to be a one-time thing. Please, Draco, help me understand because I don’t.”

“You don’t want me,” Draco says flatly. “Not really.”

Harry makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “How can you say that? I want you more than I have words to say. Didn’t you get that last night?”

Draco’s eyes flash with anger and pain. “The only thing I got last night is that you want a woman!”

Harry takes a step back at the vehemence of Draco’s words. “What?”

Draco’s mask of indifference finally falls away. “How long have we been together, Harry? And no one knows. Not even your best friends” he says. “And before last night, we hadn’t so much as touched each other intimately. Yes, you were affectionate and sweet, but you didn’t want me, not sexually. Not until you could pretend I was a woman.”

Draco turns away then, but not before Harry sees the bright sheen in his eyes. 

Harry’s stunned. “I-,”

“Just go, Harry,” Draco says wearily. “We tried, it didn’t work, and we made a mistake last night, but we don’t have to let that ruin our friendship or our working relationship.” Draco turns back to him and smiles weakly. “All right?”

Harry finally finds his voice. “No. No.” Striding up to Draco, he says, “Draco, no. That’s not true. I don’t want a woman; I want _you_.”

“Then why?” He sounds uncharacteristically vulnerable, his voice betraying his hurt. “Why did you never touch me, why did you hide me?”

Draco’s heartbreakingly sad words cut Harry. “Because I’m an idiot,” he says. “That’s why. Draco, do you know how amazing you are?” He raises his hand and gently brushes his fingers across Draco’s forehead, pushing his hair to the side. “You’re experienced, confident, gorgeous, so intelligent. And I’m just me. I can’t compare to you.”

Harry puts his finger to Draco’s lips when Draco opens his mouth as if to speak, and Draco sucks in a breath. “It’s true,” he says quietly. “And seeing you dressed as a woman affected me because it was _you_ and you were beautiful, and in that moment I didn’t know why I was holding back. I’m not ashamed of you, Draco, or uncomfortable because you’re a man. I just wanted to be deserving of you, and instead of showing you how much I love you, I ended up hurting you.”

Harry leans forward and rests his forehead on Draco’s. “I want to be with you, in every way. No more hiding, no more secrets. Just me and you together.”

Draco’s eyes search his, his breathing slightly quick. “I want to be with you, too,” Draco admits after a few long, agonizing moments, and the relief Harry feels is almost overwhelming.

Unable to resist, Harry pulls Draco to him, holding him tightly against his body, and Draco allows him, holding onto Harry just as tightly. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry says into Draco’s ear. “That I hurt you. That I made you doubt my feelings for you.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Draco whispers back. “I didn’t talk to you like I should have, but pretended everything was fine. And when we were together last night… it was wonderful, but it hurt. I thought it would be the only time.”

Pulling back, Harry looks Draco in the eye. “I’m sorry,” he says again, feeling the acute pain of hurting Draco and making him feel ashamed deep in his chest. “It won’t be the only time,” he promises. “I want to do it again and again and again.”

Draco laughs quietly at Harry’s attempt to leave the hurt behind. “You do, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry says, smiling, the stress and tension of the past few days draining away and leaving Harry feeling lighter and happier than he’s been in a while. “Many times. Because I’m lucky enough to be able to.”

“You’re not the only lucky one,” Draco says, leaning forward to brush a kiss across Harry’s lips. “So would you want to do it again right now?”

Harry chuckles when Draco yawns just as he finishes speaking. “I’d love to, but maybe tomorrow. I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep in the middle. Might give me a complex or something.”

Draco smiles sheepishly. “Wouldn’t want to do that. That would put a damper on things.”

“Just a bit.” This time, it’s Harry who leans forward and brushes his lips across Draco’s in a feather light kiss. “Can I stay here tonight despite that? I want to be close to you.”

Draco nods and presses his lips more firmly against Harry’s, Draco seemingly just as keen for more kisses as Harry. “Come on.”

He’s biting his lip, and Harry knows he wants to break out into a huge smile. Still wrapped around each other, they make their way to Draco’s bedroom, and they quickly strip, Harry slipping into bed while Draco pops in the en suite bathroom to take his leftover make-up off. Harry’s waits for him impatiently, propped up on his arm. Draco joins him in bed soon and they press against one another eagerly, arms and legs tangling. 

“This is nice,” Draco whispers once they’re comfortable and still, Harry lying on his back and Draco half draped over him, head resting on his chest. 

“Very nice,” Harry agrees. “And tomorrow, we’re going to sleep in and wake up together, and maybe eat breakfast in bed, and then we’re going out so everyone can see how happy we are together.” 

Harry hears Draco’s smile in his voice. “Sounds wonderful.”

“It will be,” Harry promises. “And we don’t have to worry about telling Ron about us, by the way,” he adds almost as an afterthought.

“No?”

Harry grins into the dark, absently playing with Draco’s hair. “Nope. He told me just two days ago that we should fuck and get it over with.”

Draco laughs out loud. “Well we already did that.”

“And it was spectacular,” Harry says, tilting Draco’s head up so he can kiss him; he can’t get enough.

They’re both quiet then, Draco laying his head in the curve of Harry’s shoulder, and Harry’s so content and warm and relaxed, he’s almost asleep when Draco breaks the comfortable silence to say, “Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“You liked my dress very much, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Harry says, unconcerned with why Draco’s asking that now. He kisses Draco’s temple. “Beautiful.”

Draco’s caresses Harry’s collarbone, Harry enjoying the pleasant sensations the action creates. “Then maybe you’d dress up for me sometime?”

Harry’s answer is sleepy, but immediate. “Whenever you want.” 

And he will. He’s not sure he’ll be able to pull it off as well as Draco, but if Draco wants him to do it, he will.

Draco kisses Harry’s neck and goose bumps form. “You’ll be beautiful, too,” he whispers. 

“If you say so, love,” Harry says softly, the endearment easily slipping out. 

“I do.” Draco sighs happily, burrowing closer to Harry. “You’re my love, too.”

Hearing Draco’s words, Harry’s heart feels too big for his chest. In response, he tightens his arms around Draco, wanting him as close as possible. Just a few days ago, their relationship was strained, on the verge of ending, but now, everything’s right and perfect, and Harry’s basking in their new intimacy. Smiling, he listens to Draco’s breathing slowly deepen and even out, and lets it lull him to sleep.

He’s already anticipating waking up with Draco in his arms. It’s going to be wonderful. _Draco’s_ wonderful and being in love’s wonderful. 

Harry’s going to enjoy it all.

**  
 **END**  
**


End file.
